


Things Ghostbur Remembers

by Mirkachu



Series: Ghostbur Fics That May Or May Not Be Set In The Same Timeline [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Books, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Memory Loss, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkachu/pseuds/Mirkachu
Summary: Ghostbur tries to remember his past life, but no matter how hard he tries it's difficult. Atleast his new friends will always be there for him.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Ghostbur Fics That May Or May Not Be Set In The Same Timeline [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035897
Kudos: 110





	Things Ghostbur Remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Niki is only mentioned here I'm sorry! This is only my 2nd mcyt fic and I aleready find these so fun to write. I sacrificed some sleep for a Ghostbur fanfiction but damn was it worth it.

Ghostbur was sat in his wooden yet still somehow comfortable chair with his legs crossed and posture ruined for the sake of a more efficent way to write on his lap. The pen he held in his hand was scribbling small, scratchy and boxy letters with the darkest of ink he could quickly snatch on his way home from someone's halfway constructed house. 

He doesn't remember who he stole the ink from. His mind almost served him with a name when he first looked at them, but as soon as he tried to grasp the thought it quickly flew through his fingers like silk. He doesn't remember pretty much anything, so that's why he's writing in his messy handwriting the things he does. 

It's hard for him to pull the thoughts from his mind. It's like there's a strong and firm concrete wall stopping him in his tracks whenever he thinks he' s onto something. 

He remembers foggy snippets and bits, faint smells and sounds of laughter, sorrow and pain. He remembers so much pain. How a man with long blonde hair and blue eyes the colour of the skies pushed a sword directly through his chest. How the unbearable pain of the blade felt stuck in between his flesh. He remembers some colours like red, green and black blurring in together to form the images which he sees in his flashback. He remembers being hugged, one last warm embrace before a shiny white spark of light and a loud ear-ripping noise replaced his ability to see and hear. Then there was nothing. 

He doesn't know when, where or how he woke up, but he's here now. That's enough, right? 

No, it's not. Ghostbur wishes he knew why he even exists, what his purpose is. You can't just be brought back as a ghost that people can see for no reason. 

He reckons knowing the name of the man would come in handy at some point. Maybe once he meets him he could ask his murderer why he killed him and get one step closer to finally solving the mess that his broken memories are. 

His own mind answers him with Philza.

Oh, well that was easy. He wrote the name and what he could remember down, just in case he forgets later. Maybe if he read the book he was now creating often enough, he could remember more. He could remember everything. 

Everything. 

Everything sounds so impossible. It's like trying to name every one of the stars you see in the sky, only to forget most of the names even though you know you're the creator of them and you should know. It's probably just a fantasy of his, he can't just remember everything.  
A single drop of water fell onto the paper and spread once it broke trough the surface. There was a wet stain on the name Philza, perfectly highlighting it and remind him of who slaughtered him. He was crying. He didn't have a motive to do so, but he was.

He didn't know spirits could cry, although he doesn't know a lot of things, so you couldn't really blame him for being shocked. 

He closed the leather bond of the book and let his cold lifeless hand gradually move towards his cheek on instinct. He wiped the stream of salty water from beneath his eyes with his fingers and brought them back down to a distance he could see the tears from. His eyes focused and he inspected it. 

Don't get him wrong, he has seen humans cry before. Niki, the name his mind brought him when he saw her walking down a wooden path, has sobbed into his pale yellow sweater when she saw him for the first time. She thought he was gone. He thought he would be gone too.

But he's not a human and never saw himself cry. Who knows? Maybe his tears weren't the same ones he's seen oh his old friend's cheeks before. Though after looking at the wetness of his hand for long enough he concluded that his kind of tears was similiar enough to the ones of a human kind. 

The door creaked open from across the room and made a decently loud sound as it hit the stone wall. There was only one of his neighbours that never knocked on his door as a kind warning of them entering. He knew it was Tommy coming in before he even looked up or heard his voice that spread and bounced off of the walls of every hall, alerting anyone that was close enough to hear it, making them jump up from how sudden and intense it was.

"Hey Wil have you seen the-" Tommy, who was standing in the tall doorway, stopped in his tracks right as he noticed Ghostbur's dead but still splotchy with undertones of red and wet face.

"Umm.. You okay man?" Tommy's expression showed concern. His eyebrows turned up and the corners of his mouth that were previously creating soft smile lines on his face turned down in a frown as he wondered why the slightly transparent ghost was crying.

Ghostbur stayed silent. He didn't really have anything to say. He was almost as concerned but definitely as confused as the tall and skinny kid was as to why his eyes suddenly decided to produce unnatural amounts of wet. 

They stared at eachother and once Tommy was sure Ghostbur wasn't going to mutter a response he glanced outside the door and closed it discreetly, walking to and sitting down right in front of the ghost on the freezing ground. 

He waited. For once in the entire time the dead man knew him he was paintent and stagnant, not jumping to conclusions and yelling at him, giving him space.

"I don't even know why I'm crying." God, his voice sounded hoarse and genuinely like shit. Once the spoke his eyes teared up more, begging for an escape from the sad and dreadful parts of his head.

"Hey, I guess that happens sometimes," Tommy chuckled awkwardly, but he was trying, "there isn't anything wrong with that." 

The man in the beanie finally tore his gaze from the ground and looked up at the kid. He doesn't remember more about him than anyone else he met in his past life, but he has a feeling he was important. The kid seemed important without even Ghostbur having to ponder over if he was or not. Maybe he was one of his closest friends. He didn't want to speak again, not after how awful he sounded when he did before. 

"Wilbur-" He started. 

"Call me Ghostbur. Wilbur was the name I had when I was alive," Wilbur completely forgot the boundaries he just set in his mind, instead choosing to correct Tommy. He twitched uncomfortably once the sound coming from his throat hit his ears, and he teared up even more. 

"Okay, Ghostbur," Tommy smirked with his teeth and braces showing and spread both of his arms outwards, "I don't do this often, but since you liked hugs in your past life, I'd assume you'd appreciate one now." 

Wilbur stared as he processed what he said to him. His mind was exhausted from how hard he worked through his brain before, so it was running a little slower than usual. 

His human friend's smile went strained when he realized what he just did and regretted it immidiately as the words came out of his mouth. "Or you don't have to- I mean you know it's your choice and i'm sorry fo-" Tommy spoke fast without breathing as he tried to fix the situation but he got cut off by Ghostbur suddenly dashing forward and hugging him tightly. 

He sighed in relief and hugged him back. Ghostbur was very cold, but the hug still felt safe and warm and seemed like returning to home after a very long time. 

After a while, he sighed again, but in comfort of the arms of his nearly lost friend and family. "It's feels pretty neat to have you back sometimes, buddy."

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you liked it! Comments and Kudos are very appreciated, they make me very happy. If you want to check out my other social medias and my art then my twitter is @ActualMiriam and my instagram is @an.actual.miriam (most of my art is on there).


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